Past Sins
by Tabitha12
Summary: Written with AmandaFaye. A long buried skeleton of an old rival of Captain Daniel Gregg’s is unearthed in the cellar of Gull Cottage. This story is set in the GAMM 'From this Day On' Universe. Reposted for legal and continuity reasons.


_**Disclaimer: The characters from 'The Ghost and Mrs. Muir' belong to 20th Century Fox and David Gerber productions. No infringement is intended, no profit is made, and the characters will be returned unharmed from whence they came. This story is for enjoyment only. **_

_**All other characters, plots, story lines and development of GAMM characters belong to the authors and may not be used or changed without express written permission. **_

**Past Sins**

Mary and Amanda

_**A little background on Vanessa Peakskill and Sean Callahan from the GAMM TV show. Skip it if you know it:**_

_**Vanessa Peakskill was a visiting first season GAMM character played by a young actress, Shelly Fabares. (Donna Reed Show/Coach) She shows up at Gull Cottage, looking for the love-letters her great-great-great-grandmother wrote to Captain Gregg during their brief engagement one hundred some-odd years before. Vanessa the current has the love letters the Captain wrote her great-great-grandmother. In the episode, the Captain is temporarily smitten by this young woman who looks so much like his lost love. Carolyn becomes so upset over the Captain's actions that she seriously considers breaking her lease and letting Claymore sell the house to Vanessa, but the Captain overhears Carolyn's call to Claymore about it, realizes he cares for Carolyn more than the incarnation of his lost love, and figures out a creative way to get Vanessa to leave. In the episode, the viewer is given no answer as to why the Captain's engagement to Vanessa was originally broken.**_

_**Sean Callahan was a character (also played by Edward Mulhare) who shows up the show's second season — a light-hearted, devil-may-care Irishman that comes to Gull Cottage, supposedly to research the story that Daniel Gregg could have been his great-great-great-grandfather. Naturally, Carolyn is interested in the man...sort of...this alive, touchable look-alike for Daniel Gregg, and equally expected, Daniel Gregg can't STAND Callahan. In the episode, Sean romances Carolyn a bit, and then leaves after Captain Gregg haunts him for the night (Callahan takes it fairly well) and the viewers never hear from him again in any future shows.**_

_**May, 15, 1971**_

Martha Grant smothered a moan as she backed her way out of the pantry — her arms full of canning jars.

"Still trying to make room, Martha?" The ghost of Gull Cottage lifted a bushy eyebrow and smiled at her from his seat at the kitchen table, one morning in May. "I thought Ed Peavey was coming over to help you set up those new shelves in the cellar for you today."

"He is," Martha said, placing the jars on the kitchen counter. "And yes, I was, but it's just no use. We really need those shelves. And thank you, Captain, and you too, Mrs. Muir," she added to her employer, who was sitting near him at the kitchen table.

"For what?" Carolyn asked, puzzled.

"For agreeing to spring for the pot roast to bribe Ed with," Martha grinned. "That and the fixings for dessert! I swear that stubborn New Englander would do anything for my cherry pie!" and the housekeeper beamed with satisfaction.

"I think it's a fair trade," Daniel Gregg said thoughtfully. "The price of a pot roast is certainly is less than what Claymore would charge, or the fuss he would make if you asked him to take care of the matter, or what I would do to him to make SURE he would take care of it."

"Nothing like a commission to bring the costs up," Carolyn made a face. "No... That's not the right word. What was it he called it when he was taking care of remodeling the kitchen last year? Contingencies?"

"That was it," Martha agreed. "I think I would rather take a night-school class in home repair and learn to do it myself than go through THAT again!"

"I think that would be a great idea for the next time," Carolyn laughed. "But the shelves you need are heavy, and I have no idea how to attach shelving to stone walls. Probably best to let Ed take care of things this time. Jonathan was disappointed though," she added. "He wanted to stay home today and help."

"Anything for an excuse to stay home from school," the Captain chuckled.

"Well, in the long run, treating Ed to a good dinner is cheaper than not doing it right the first time," said Martha. Silently Carolyn added her own thought — that living with Daniel Gregg had finally helped her realize that she didn't have to do EVERYTHING herself, and that admitting to needing help occasionally did not make her "weak," as Daniel had once considered the entire feminine gender to be.

"It's certainly easier to get this work done now that my antiques have been moved elsewhere," Daniel remarked. "I must say, the pill popper has been taking good care of them."

"If he is taking such good care of them, Daniel, the least you can do is call him Mister Hampton," Carolyn grinned.

"Very well, dear lady — Mister Hampton, the pill popper." Daniel said agreeably, and smiled back at her. It was too beautiful a morning to argue.

"Right," Martha nodded again. "Only thing down there now are the kids' sleds, and that antique fire screen."

"My watchamacallit." Daniel grinned, levitated the pot of coffee from the stove, moved it to the table and poured another cup of coffee for himself and his lady. "Seriously, Martha, I do agree with the improvements, and I am glad now that Claymore installed an electric light down there, even though I still hate them. But I love your preserves, so it is all worth the concessions I must make. Now don't forget, please call me if you need an extra pair of hands."

Martha raised her eyebrows. "I'm sure Ed would be very understanding when a few jars float over to the shelves by themselves!" A knock came at the door, and Martha stood and headed for it. "That will be Ed, now," Martha said. "I'll be right back."

"I suppose that means I need to make myself scarce," Daniel sighed, and touched his lady's hand.

"Not that scarce," she smiled back, tenderly covering his other hand with hers. "I have to finish my story this morning, and I was counting on your help with the edits."

"A pleasure, my dear." His look to her was soft. "I'll meet you up in the main cabin in a few minutes then?"

Carolyn nodded. "Only a few, Daniel. I really need to say hello to Ed before he and Martha get started."

"Very well," he sighed again, and vanished, his cup of coffee still in hand.

XXX

Ed didn't waste much time with small talk in the kitchen — after bidding a polite hello to Carolyn Muir, he and Martha excused themselves and made their way to the cellar — Scruffy following.

"This shouldn't take too terribly long, Martha," Ed Peavey said, pulling out his measuring tape. "The shelves are already cut. Hard part'll be the mounting. I may need some help with that, seein' as how I am doin' this by myself... ya sure ya don't mind? It would just be for holding the boards. Can Miz Muir spare ya for a few hours?"

"More, if needed, Ed," the housekeeper replied. "She knows how much I want to..." Martha stopped; glancing over at the terrier, busy scratching away at the dirt in the far corner of the cellar. "Hey, Scruffy," she called. "You better watch what you are doing over there. I'm sure you don't want another B-A-T-H."

"Might be better, Martha, if you got that dog upstairs," Ed continued. "I'll be doing some drilling in the mortar for the shelf brackets, and more than likely there will be chips flyin'. Mrs. Muir wouldn't want the little fella to get hurt," and he turned back to his measuring.

"Or me either, Ed Peavey, and you know that," Martha agreed, and glanced at the animal again. He had unearthed something, and was now worrying it, over in the corner. A few moments later the small dog seemed to shrug his shoulders in defeat, and brought the object over to the housekeeper, where he dropped it at her feet.

Martha ignored the gesture at first, then, when the little animal gave a small bark, she reached over and picked up the article that had grabbed his attention and looked at it more closely. It was a bone. A long bone. Dry to the touch. Definitely not a steak or ham bone. The little animal barked again, expectantly, giving Martha a "do something" look.

"Where did you get this, Scruffy?" she asked, as if the little dog would give her a direct answer. Instead, he gave another small bark, and headed toward the corner of the cellar again, Martha following. When they reached the area where the terrier had been digging, he started up again, furiously, dirt flying. "Hold it a minute, boy," Martha said quietly, moved Scruffy aside, and started to dig herself. What she saw chilled her to the very marrow of her bones.

"Ed?" she said softly, unwilling to disturb what she had found. "Can you come here for a minute, please?"

XXX

The Captain's abrupt pause made Carolyn glance up, following the direction of his stare and immediately be glad she'd only been listening to him, not conversing. Ed and Martha had entered the master cabin, both looking very shaken.

"You look like you've..." Carolyn began, not wanting to say: "seen a ghost."

"I need to borrow your phone, Mrs. Muir," Ed said a bit stiffly. "We… that is your dog, found a bone in... well under... it was buried, in the cellar."

Carolyn glanced around for Scruffy, worried that he'd choked and they needed a vet, but Ed didn't dote on the family pet quite like the rest of them did. Why would he be so upset?

Martha perceived a bit of her worry. "It wasn't a steak bone. It was…" she gulped. "It looked... Ed thinks it might be... human."

Carolyn felt the color drain from her face. "H—human?" At the moment, she didn't care if Ed saw the spirit of Gull Cottage or not. Feeling his hand on her arm mattered more. "Ed, you know where it is... go ahead." When Martha led Ed Peavey back downstairs to the phone, the Captain materialized again.

"That's not... YOU, is it?" Carolyn whispered as her world turned upside down.

"Madam, you did have me re-interred after clearing up my death," he gently reminded her.

"Of course," she answered, giving her brain a mental shake, "Then who...?"

"I have no idea," the seaman answered. "I did not build Gull Cottage over an old graveyard, and no one would dare try something as foul as this once I began haunting," he continued, shaking his head.

"They must have," Carolyn protested. "But why down THERE, and not in a proper cemetery?"

"Foul play," Ed said in an official tone, as he returned, shaking his head a bit. _Writers..._ but in this case, he could understand a bit of talking to yourself. Not every day you find a skeleton in the cellar. "Only reason someone'd hide a body like that." Clucking his tongue, he went on. "Guess that the old Captain might not've been the hero everyone 'round abouts thinks. I called the doctor... and someone'll be out to get the remains presently. Listen… can you or Martha put Scruffy up outta the way for a bit? He tried to dig a bit more, and uncovered a watch. Not that I don't appreciate the help, but we don't want to disturb a crime scene any more than we have to."

"A watch?" Carolyn repeated.

"Yep. Pocket watch. Preserved pretty good. Engraved and all. _'To Sean Ian Callahan, from_ _your devoted mother.'_ Can't get it open though. Could be there's more engravin' on the inside. I didn't want to mess with it too much. Figured I'd leave that to the professionals." He scratched his head, a glimmer of recognition coming to his face. "Callahan... Wasn't that the fella hanging around here a while back? I remember Martha sayn' somethin' about him. He rented Seth Jackson's trailer for a day or so..." He frowned deeper. "Glad the body's downstairs undercover... it wouldn't be easy going and diggin' it up in the rain. That thunder sounds close."

Carolyn did not tell him why it was thundering, but she thought she understood now why gothic heroines fainted all the time; she'd like to check out herself.

"You don't look so good, Ma'am," Ed went on. "I asked Martha to wait in the kitchen, civilians shouldn't be around a crime scene. Even if it is old, but that's not one-hundred percent sure. That watch... It could have been inherited by someone, you know, more recent-like. Anyway, I'll help you to the kitchen, so you and Martha can wait... and keep the dog out of the way."

"The dog will be the least of your worries if you continue to impugn my name or imply things about Mrs. Muir," Daniel seethed, unheard by the sheriff. Still, concern for Carolyn overrode tossing off impudent lawmen, so he followed them to the kitchen.

When Ed was out of earshot, Martha spoke up, "Captain, what is going on?"

"I don't know," Daniel admitted, pulling his ear. "But your swain seems bent on convicting ME of murder posthumously, or someone in this house now."

"If he does, that'll cut off the cherry pie train," Martha vowed.

"How did Sean Callahan the... First die?" Carolyn whispered.

"He... was here in Schooner Bay for a while and then, uhm... vanished in the middle of the night," Daniel informed her. "I always assumed, along with everything else, he was a step ahead of the law." The seaman looked uncomfortable, and Carolyn wondered if there was something Daniel was leaving out.

"Well, you know what they say about assuming," Martha intoned.

"We need to know," Carolyn spoke up, insistently.

Nodding, Daniel asked, "Will you ladies be all right if I pop over to get Dashire, Sean, and Tristan? I think we'll need some assistance... of the unearthly sort." Apparently, Carolyn was not the only one learning the value of help.

Carolyn laughed without humor. "Sure. It's not like the killer is still around."

At another time, he might have kissed her reassuringly, but settled on a look that conveyed the feelings before vanishing.

XXX

Almost before the men could arrive to remove the remains, three beloved ghosts had joined the family at Gull Cottage. The first question each man asked was: "Are you ladies all right?"

"Of course," Carolyn demurred. "Nothing really happened to us."

"On the contrary," Dash frowned. "This is upsetting — that IS something, even if the harm is not apparent. Tell me: did that two-bit cherry picker actually imply that you or Danny killed someone and hid the body?"

"I'm sure Ed didn't mean anything by it — he was rattled, too," Carolyn placated the spirit. "Really, it isn't every day that a body pops up in the cellar."

"If he keeps up, he'll think rattled," Dash promised.

Tris' expression brightened at that, but he said nothing on the subject. He did ask, "How are Candy and Jonathan handling it?"

"They aren't home from school yet," Martha told him, relief apparent in her tone. "I hope they won't hear about it until we can tell them, but in small towns, you never know."

"Since I never met the bloke, and I am mostly here for moral support and such, I can pop over to the grammar school and keep an eye on things," Tris offered. "Invisibly, I assure you. No frogs down the teachers' backs today. Just making sure they don't hear anything yet."

Carolyn nodded. "Thank you, Tristan. That would be a help."

He was gone in a flash.

XXX

As the sounds of digging reached upstairs, ghostly hands rubbed away the tension in Carolyn's shoulders while the remaining ghosts softly went over details.

"We should have known Callahan wasn't done making trouble," Sean sighed, refusing to grace that scurvy rat with the same Christian name as he owned.

"What did he do, exactly, Daniel?" Carolyn asked. "You never were that specific when his great-great-whatever grandson was here."

The three ghosts exchanged looks. "Well, it had to come out sometime," Daniel said reluctantly. "Callahan stole Vanessa from me." His face darkened. "I still remember the pitying glances and whispers when I came home from that voyage. I didn't know what they meant until I reached Gull Cottage and my housekeeper—"

"The one who said you — killed yourself?" Martha asked.

"Aye. That was … nine years later though? She informed me that Vanessa had eloped with that wretched..." His voice trailed off, not having a word vile enough yet decent enough to say in front of ladies that described Callahan the First.

"Then how did he get in our cellar?" Martha asked.

"That's the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question," Sean nodded. "But the answer, based on appearances, does not look good for Danny." He held up a hand, staving off protests. "You despised him with reason, and his corpse has been moldering down there for the last hundred-some-odd years — but we know you didn't kill the blighter, and you certainly aren't stupid enough to hide him in your own cellar if you did." Then, the Irish spirit noticed they were all staring at him. "What?"

"Terribly BRITISH word, old son," Dashire noted dryly. "Blighter?"

Sean chuckled wryly, breaking a bit of the tension. "I guess hanging around with you for decades has worn off on me, 'old son.' Please, don't tell any of my sainted ancestors."

They all let a few nervous laughs go, and then Dashire sobered. "We'll be needing an attorney. I'll fetch young Adam in the morning. He told me he'd find a way to re-kill me — sorry — if I disturbed him in court today. Some extremely important case he's been plugging away at for months wraps up. But after that, he should be able to devote his full attention to this. I peeked at his schedule."

"Can you see the future?" Martha asked.

"No, but I am terribly inquisitive, and like to know what 'my people' are up to."

They fell silent then as Ed's footsteps began to come closer. Just sticking his head in the room, he called, "We've got all of — Er — we're done, for now. Might not want to use the cellar for a bit. Crime scene and all. I'll have someone call you with the results..."

"Blast," said Martha. "At this rate I'll never get my shelves up."

"Speaking of picking up slang..." Carolyn said quietly, and the seaman grinned.

Fortunately, all the ghosts had chosen to be invisible and inaudible, but if looks could kill, Ed would be solving his own murder. Maybe blaming him was unreasonable, but at the moment it did seem like he was the commander of the army of events against them. Kill the messenger, and all that.

Things only got worse when Mark Finley showed up at the front door a little while later to take pictures for a special edition of the _Beacon_ related to the crime scene.

"How did you hear about it?" Carolyn asked. _Mark Finley poking about she did not need._

"I'm a journalist, Mrs. Muir," the little man said. "And bound by the First Amendment… I don't have to reveal my sources."

"Well, then, as a journalist..." Carolyn continued.

"A pretender," Daniel added invisibly, "Just like your great-great-grandfather Lucius..."

"Mark," Carolyn went on. "We don't know anything, yet." She crossed her fingers behind her back, breathing easier when Daniel invisibly held them in his. "As a journalist, you should know that anything published before all the facts are known might have to be _retracted _later. I'm sure you don't want to repeat what happened when your great-great-grandfather ran that false story about Daniel Gregg's so-called suicide..."

The journalist turned pale. "No... No Miz Muir. Dad... I don't want that. But believe me, I will be the first one back here after the coroner has the results." He turned on his heel and headed for his car — narrowly missing tripping over Jonathan's skateboard, which seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Carolyn closed the front door and looked at her Captain. "What next?"

XXX

Fortunately, Jane Shoemaker, the town's most revved up motor mouth, did not have the car-pool, so the kids made it home without learning anything prematurely, but telling them was the first order of business.

"Kids — do you remember Mr. Callahan?" Carolyn began, tentatively.

"Sure. I remember you told us you thought the Captain was playing a trick on you at first," Jonathan nodded. "But even though he looked like the Captain, the Captain didn't know anything about his great- great-great-great—" He broke off frowning. "How many greats was it?"

"No matter, lad," Daniel assured him.

"Well, remember the Ghost Callahan he mentioned?" Carolyn went on.

"You mean the _Great_ Ghost Callahan?" Candy asked.

"Great is debatable," Sean shrugged. "But, aye, lass."

"Well, er — when Ed was helping put up Martha's shelves — they found him. Not the ghost, but the body."

"Wow," said Jonathan, impressed. "A skeleton in the cellar? All this time? Just like on TV?"

"How'd it get there?" Candy asked.

"We aren't sure," Carolyn admitted. "But they think something bad happened to him, and are investigating. There might be rumors until it's cleared up."

"Is the Captain in trouble, Mom?" Candy asked.

"He wouldn't do anything bad," Jonathan said. "Even to a slimy snake."

"Thank you," the Captain murmured.

"No — he's not in trouble, but it might look like he is for a while. But your uncles are here, and they're going to help us get it all settled."

"Cool," the two kids chorused, glad the other ghosts would be around.

"Is Elroy coming, too?" Candy asked, turning to look at Tris.

"I told him it'd be a good chance to practice his haunting," Tristan said. "See how he can handle things without my help for a bit. Besides, we can't leave the place un-haunted for too long."

"But I'm going to fetch Adam later," Dash added.

"Can I come along? I really like riding in cars," Tristan asked.

"You'll get another chance," Dash frowned. "Stay and head off Mark Finley in case he pops around."

The phone shrilled then. After a second ring, Carolyn gathered her courage and answered it. Her voice was too low to hear and then she came back.

"That was Doctor Avery." That was not too unexpected.

"Was that the peep's name?" Daniel asked. "I thought it was..."

"She's new in town," Carolyn explained, thinking _is this necessary now?_

"Her son's in my class," Candy added.

"Not a rival, I hope?" Tris grinned, doing his best to dispel the gloom.

Carolyn paused for a moment and looked at her children. "Kids, Martha has a snack for you in the kitchen." She glanced at the housekeeper. "Chocolate cupcakes, right, Martha?" The housekeeper nodded.

"Chocolate cupcakes," Candy sighed. "You don't want us to hear this next part, do you, Mom?"

Carolyn looked at her daughter, who was getting entirely too smart. "Maybe later, sweetie. But for now…"

"Kitchen. Snack." Jonathan interrupted. "C'mon, Candy. We'll find out later. We know the Captain didn't do anything wrong. I'm hungry."

"Right," Candy nodded and gave her mother a quick hug, Jonathan following suit. Then they looked carefully at the seaman. "You need a hug, too — don't you, Captain?" Candy asked, moving toward him.

"Aye, lass," he answered, concentrating for a split second. He held out his arms — and the children threw themselves in his direction.

"Thought so!" Jonathan added, and the two enveloped the man they thought of as their father into a bear hug. "Don't worry, Captain," the boy went on, pulling away a bit. "Innocent until proven guilty, just like on TV. Right?"

"Right," Candy agreed, patting the seaman on the hand. "You just wait. Things will be fine. Come on, Jonathan. Let's go get something to eat." Together the siblings headed for the kitchen. Turning back, she added. "We'll bring you back a cupcake in a few minutes, Captain. Martha says there isn't anything that can't be made better by chocolate!"

In a blink of an eye, the two were gone.

Waiting until the two children were safely out of the room, Carolyn continued.

"Doctor Avery wanted to call and give me the results — unofficially. They can't do any scientific tests to prove it's Sean Callahan the First, but it is a rather old body — her equipment can't be more precise, but more than seventy-five years old. Maybe over a hundred — and the watch Scruffy found does say Sean Ian Callahan. And inside the watch… they were able to get it open… there was more engraving, like Ed thought there might be. _To Sean, on your 21st birthday, October 14, 1846. _So, it's a good bet that it's really Sean Callahan the First. He died from a blow to the back of the head, hard enough to embed slivers of metal in the skull." She looked a bit green by now.

"What else?" Martha asked.

"Someone socked Danny Shoemaker today."

"Well, there's some good news," Tris commented. "But it wasn't me," he added, defensively.

"And even though Linden's office was closed up for her to deal with the autopsy, Jane barreled her way in so that her precious son could be treated, and she overheard her reading the report into a tape recorder."

"And the boy has a photographic memory, blast it," Daniel recalled.

"It'll be all over town in no time," Martha agreed.

"We need to do something," said Martha, looking first at the Captain and then at her employer.

"I'm not sure what we can do, yet," Carolyn remarked. "Gossip is malicious and hurtful, yes, but unfortunately — not illegal. After three years here that's one thing I have learned… and besides," she added. "The jails aren't that big."

"What about a restraining order? Or slander suit? Or is it libel? I get those mixed up," Dashire suggested.

"Slander. And Jane is slandering a—" She paused, hating to say the word. "A deceased person. So it's not illegal, just tacky."

"That would be Mrs. Shoemaker," Daniel agreed.

"Blast!" four ghosts chorused.

"And it is only a matter of time until Finley slithers back here now that the report is in," Daniel fumed.

"I can hear the gossips now," Martha added_. "It's not Daniel Gregg that supposedly haunts Gull Cottage, but the Great Ghost Callahan—_"

"I think we can delay that a bit," Sean drawled. "Tris, you're the expert — rain, or puncture his tires?"

"Can't we do both?"

Carolyn threw a hand over her mouth. "Rain? Punctured tires?" She gasped. "Blast! I knew there was something I was forgetting!"

"What?" the spirits in the room chorused.

"Claymore." Carolyn said decidedly. "I haven't called Claymore. Gull Cottage belongs to him..."

"Me," Daniel fumed. "Gull Cottage is mine."

"Not legally, Danny," Sean cut in. "The lady is right. We need to call him. He has a right to know."

"If he doesn't already know," Martha sighed. "Like we said before — small towns."

"We'd better call him before he hears from somewhere else and jumps to conclusions, or something," Carolyn nodded, and reached for the newly installed phone in the living room, sitting on the end table. "Millie? Can you connect me with Claymore Gregg, please?" There was a pause while everyone waited for Claymore to pick up the phone. After ten rings, Carolyn hung up, obviously not having got an answer on the other end. She shrugged. "Anyone know if by some chance Claymore is out of town? Maybe visiting one of his properties today?"

Everyone answered in the negative, and Daniel started to take the phone from her. "There. You've done your duty — he's not home. You don't have to worry about him now."

Carolyn shook her head. "You're postponing the inevitable, Daniel. As Sean said, he has the right to know."

"Or does already, and is on his way out here," Dash pointed out.

"Nothing to be done about it at the moment, "Daniel said firmly, reaching for the telephone again.

"Daniel, stop, please," Carolyn sighed. "Claymore was the easy call. We'll get back to him. I'm not finished yet."

"Now what?" everyone asked.

"Something infinitely less appealing than calling Claymore," Carolyn said heavily, and reached for the small black phonebook next to the telephone. Impatiently, she jiggled the telephone cradle until the telephone operator answered once more. "Millie, this is Carolyn Muir again. I need you to place a long-distance phone call for me."

Daniel Gregg's eyebrows went up. "My dear, who are you calling?" he asked, puzzled. "Your parents? My dear woman, I quite under..."

Carolyn shook her head. "No, Daniel..." And she spoke into the receiver again. "Millie, I need you to place a call to a Mister Sean Ian Callahan. That's right, Sean Callahan in County Cork... yes, Ireland. The number is..." Quickly she rattled off a number from her address book, then closed her eyes in silent prayer, hoping Millie could be trusted to keep her mouth shut — or hadn't heard the news yet. _Small wish: _her thoughts continued_. "Jane? This is Millie... Carolyn Muir called someone in Ireland named Callahan — wasn't that the name of the body they found? Whisper, whisper..." _Silently, she reached for Daniel's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Yes, thank you, Millie. I'll wait."

"Carolyn?" The seaman was puzzled, but didn't let go of her. "Why are you calling Callahan, and... why do you still have his phone number?"

"I'm calling him because he needs to know what's... going on," Carolyn gulped. "And I still have his phone number because he gave it to me when he was here and I just filed it in my book. Never thought about getting rid of it, actually. Even after... well, everything," and she gave the mariner a dazzling smile. "Now I'm glad I have it."

"But why..." The seaman's voice died away, and a look of resignation came to it instead. "Never mind, my dear. I see. You need to call him and tell him what happened to his..."

"Right," she nodded, and put her ear back to the receiver. "Thanks, Millie. She's connecting me now."

There was a pause and then Carolyn spoke into the receiver again. "Hello? Is this the residence of Sean Callahan? Sean Ian Callahan?" There was moment of silence. "Oh. Yes. Well, it is a castle, isn't it? Yes? Well, this is Carolyn Muir. I met Mister Callahan about a year and a half ago. Would it be possible to speak with him, please?" Another pause. "Oh. He's not? No... Really?" She smiled. "He should be home in a few days? Well, could you tell him I called and it is very important that I reach him?" The voice on the other end spoke again. "Yes, well, thank-you. Yes. Goodbye." She was grinning as she hung up the phone.

"Well?" Daniel demanded. "He wasn't there, obviously. Why didn't you leave a message?" he questioned impatiently.

"Daniel, you can't just leave a message like "Hello — we just found your great-great-great-grandfather's bones that have been buried in my cellar for the last one-hundred years, and oh... by the way, his head was bashed in!" Carolyn chided. "We have time. We don't even know exactly what the next step is yet. Sean will call me when he returns from his... honeymoon."

Daniel's mouth — and the mouths of the other spirits dropped open. "His what?" they all shouted.

"Honeymoon," Carolyn giggled. "I don't know why you all are so surprised. He isn't his great-great-great-grandfather, you know."

"Well I'll be blasted," Sean mused. "I suppose... well, I guess it's possible. But really, who'd have thought..."

"My idea, exactly," Dashire asserted.

"Always nice to see this crew speechless, once in a while," Martha laughed, and there was the sound of furious knocking at the door, followed by the ringing of the doorbell and all heads turned toward the foyer.

"One guess as to who THAT is," said Tris, with a wink. "Allow me." And the spirit vanished.

The front door of Gull Cottage swung open, unmanned, and Claymore Gregg entered without hesitation — not even noticing that there was no one visible on the other side. Making it to the living room in record time, he stood in front of his tenant and his great uncle and... bellowed.

"MRS. MUIR, CAPTAIN GREGG, WHAT, IN THE NAME OF THE SEVEN SEAS AND THE SPIRIT OF FREE ENTERPRISE IS GOING ON HERE? BODIES IN THE CELLAR? YOUR LEASE DOES NOT COVER DEAD BODIES IN THE CELLAR! I... I... WHY DID I HAVE TO HEAR ABOUT ALL THIS SECOND HAND?"

They all looked at the man in mute shock.

"Well, Danny," Dash said lightly, turning to his friend. "You did want the fellow to have some gumption."

Staring at Tris, Claymore snapped. "And what the devil is he doing back?" He sniffed. "I haven't forgotten what you did to me, you... you... GHOST, you!"

Tristan looked back at the landlord, annoyed at not being noticed immediately. "I was INVITED — unlike SOME of us." He looked pointedly at Claymore.

"This is MY house," Claymore continued. "I have every right to be here..."

"Then that makes the body in the cellar your responsibility?" Daniel asked mildly. "Claymore, lad. I had no idea you had so much pluck."

"Uhm... a momentary lapse," Claymore said, weakly. "Am I, or am I not allowed any say on what goes on... on my property?" His knees started to buckle. "May I have a glass of water please? I feel... faint."

"Hearing about skeletons makes you faint?" Sean asked.

"No — YELLING makes me faint," Claymore answered. "I can't think what came over me. Captain, Mrs. Muir... can someone please tell me what is going on here?"

"Claymore, I did try to call you..." Carolyn began. "Right after we found out about... about what was... who we found in the cellar."

"There really is... a body down there?" Claymore croaked.

"No," Daniel shook his head.

"Good," the landlord said, wiping his brow. "I knew there had to be some kind of misunderstanding."

"There WAS a body down there," Tris giggled, and looked at the rest of the people in the room. "The late Mister Sean Callahan is now in the hands of the coroner."

A horrified look came over the face of Claymore Gregg. "CAPTAIN!! You... you disposed of that man who was in my office a year and a half ago? Just because he looked like you? Why of all the..."

"Pipe down, you nincompoop, and try not to change my mind about how impressed I was with you a moment ago," Daniel snapped. "Better relax, Claymore," he said, a bit more quietly. "We have a lot to tell you."

XXX

The rest of the day dragged — becoming one of those days made even draggier and extra-long because everyone wanted to do something, but there wasn't much they could do. Claymore departed for his apartments after eating a filling dinner at Gull Cottage — a dinner no one else, human or spirit, felt much like eating. Carolyn tried to get back to working on her article, but it was difficult to concentrate. She was able to fill a couple of hours helping the children with their homework off and on, until Jonathan announced that she was 'hovering,' and Daniel suggested that they take a walk down by the beach. Martha continued to man the phone, Dashire filling in from time to time — imitating Martha's voice. Sean kept watch topside, and Tris took great delight in finding ways to chase away the cars that kept 'happening' to find their way up Bay Road… his favorite trick being what he called _"The Ghost of Raines Abbey," _where he floated, dressed in a long black cloak, in front of the cars that streamed by in hopes of getting a look at the 'murder house.' He watched as the unwanted visitors stepped on the gas, frantically, leaving the area MUCH more quickly than they had arrived. Carolyn half-heartedly protested that all they needed were more rumors of a real ghost, but the spirits present only laughed, saying Tris's fun and games would be marked off to mass hysteria by the time the mystery was cleared up.

Carolyn and Daniel managed to get the children tucked in bed only a half-hour later than usual, and at nine p.m. Dash departed for Adam's apartment, saying he needed to check on his estates before waking his solicitor. Martha collapsed into bed around ten and Carolyn fell into an uneasy sleep around eleven — made calmer around midnight by a little help from the Spirit of Gull Cottage.

XXX

Someone was shaking him. No, couldn't be real. He was dreaming. Adam rolled over, determined to sleep a bit more, but the shaking grew more determined. Cracking open one eye, he stared into the face of his biggest client, Lord Charles Dashire.

"The term 'rest in peace' means absolutely nothing to you, does it?" he moaned, glancing at the clock. "It's five fifteen — A.M.! What are you doing here?"

"I need your help in a legal matter..." Dashire began to explain.

"Your relatives cannot turn your bloody house into a blasted bed and breakfast at this hour. Come back during business hours."

"It's not about that," Dash argued, tossing the covers off his attorney without a thought, and then outlined the situation they 'unearthed' yesterday. "So, you see, we need a lawyer — but I did not, as you asked, disturb you yesterday. If I had, then we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"So it's my fault?" Adam shook his head. "Might I point out, your lordship; I am not a criminal lawyer?"

"No, you aren't, but you are the only lawyer who doesn't require one to be living to hire you."

"True."

"I never specified what you were hired to do — just what I needed done."

Adam closed his eyes, giving the distinct impression that he was counting to ten in five different languages at least. Finally, he exhaled. "Fine. Go out in the living room for a few minutes — or do you want me to go in my PJ's and no shower?"

"Danny told me once that Claymore, on summons, came to Gull Cottage wearing a suit over his pajamas."

Holding up one finger, Adam began ticking off points, adding a digit per point. "One — that does not answer the no shower bit. Two — I heard that story. Claymore was summoned in the middle of the night, not pre-dawn hours. Three — I have no intention of running around with my pajamas hanging out — it sounds uncomfortable and unprofessional. Four — I'm not Claymore. Five — make yourself useful, imitate my voice and leave a message at the office saying I'm not available for the next — however long. Do I have time for breakfast?"

"Martha bakes when she's nervous — blueberry muffins await you, if you move it."

Twenty minutes or less, later, they were on the road.

XXX

Adam arrived, and together, the group started to go over details, trying to remember helpful things, and the humans began to wear out, provoking Adam to the point of bursting.

"Why are we doing this, exactly? It's not like the killer, whoever it is, will kill again, and the Captain can hardly be executed or even jailed! How do you all propose to testify on his behalf? Has anyone even suggested there will be a trial? A hearing? And besides..." he continued. "Who IS Sean Callahan, anyway? My esteemed employer has never had call to mention him — was he worth killing?"

"Yes," answered the ghosts simultaneously.

"That bad, eh?" Adam mused.

"You might need to read the current Callahan's book about his ancestor," said Carolyn, mildly.

"Why in the world would he want to read that two-bit-pipsqueak imposter's book?" Daniel scoffed. "There's not a word of truth in it. The point is Adam, scurvy snake or no, I did not kill the man. Let alone be foolish enough to bury him in my cellar. Everyone in… who lives… lived in Schooner Bay will testify to that," he continued, fuming. "I want my name cleared once and for all. I existed for one-hundred years under the stigma of suicide. I'm not about to exist for another lifetime under a cloud of murder."

"I couldn't agree more. The very idea! Well — Danny — you know if you need character witnesses you can count on Tristan, Sean, and of course, myself," Dashire chimed in.

"If we can just nail down the date of the crime..." Tristan mused, from where he was sitting on the ceiling. "...Then we could alibi you."

"Yes," Dash chimed in. "You know we can look, and act as human as anyone."

Adam sprawled on the sofa, listening. Becoming alert, he straightened up and leaned forward. "Certainly. I can see it all now... Counselor, call your next witness. Thank you, your honor. I'll call — Lord Charles Dashire. What? Oh... yes... make yourself visible, your lordship. And has it ever occurred to any of you that it's going to look somewhat... strange... that Mrs. Muir and Claymore are so much in a dither to clear the name of someone long dead?"

"Maybe a little," said Carolyn, from where she was sitting in the easy chair, Daniel standing beside her, her hand in his. "But, after all, Mark Finley knows I pushed to get Daniel's name cleared of the suicide charge a couple of years ago, and besides, we live here at Gull Cottage. It's a matter of pride. Most people think I am a little loopy anyway. You know, 'that writer lady that lives in the haunted house.' At best they'll write it off as creative eccentricities… like they have with other..." She made a face, thinking of _Maiden Voyage_. "...Things. We have to work this out. I won't have people running around saying that Daniel is a cold-blooded murderer. I don't care what the town thinks of me. Not about this."

Daniel gave her a loving look.

"There is something else," Martha said softly. "And Mrs. Muir won't mention it, so I will. Mr. Pierce, there is the matter of Mrs. Muir's book. The hardback has been out for six months, but she is now in negotiations for the royalties on the paperback rights. The murder could definitely be considered bad publicity, and if this whole thing isn't nipped in the bud, her deal will fall flat as a pancake."

"I doubt the "Great Ghost Callahan" would be inclined to help us out, even if he does know who "done" it. He obviously had no moral standards about causing trouble in life — that surely continued in death."

"I have a good reason, too," said Claymore. "Daniel Gregg is my great uncle and..."

Thunder cracked. "How many times do I have to tell you that you and I are not related?"

"We are too related," Claymore dithered. "If you'd just let me tell you..."

"When it comes to this subject, I will NOT listen to you," Daniel growled.

"You know, in this case, the man has a point, Danny," Sean said mildly. "You have a much better chance here if Clay is here to go to bat for you."

Laying a hand on Daniel's arm, Carolyn spoke again. "Daniel, Sean's right and so is Clay...more. It's like a few years ago with the clam chowder and Admiral Schnedaker..."

"'Clay,' here sold me out for a mere five-thousand dollars!" and thunder sounded again.

"Hardly 'mere' and I never got the money." Claymore protested. "Admiral Schnedaker decided to use his picture, remember? But Uncle... Captain, I learned my lesson back then, really I did. Well, maybe not then, exactly, but I have since. And don't forget, I got Mrs. Muir and everyone back here after you tried to send them away, didn't I? I do care about you, and what happens to you and I will stand up for you."

"Devotedly?" Daniel asked, narrowly.

"Yes," Claymore gulped.

"To your last breath?"

"Yes!"

"With your last ounce of strength?" the ghost went on.

"Yes! said Claymore, stoutly. "With my very last ounce!"

"With your last penny?"

"You're asking a lot, uncle..."

"CLAYMORE JAMES GREGG?!?!?!?" This time there was lightening outside to go along with the thunder.

"Oh!!" Claymore cowered. "Well... Yes. I promise. Not happily, you understand, but yes, I promise, but... Couldn't you just...?"

"Just what?" Daniel snapped.

"Er — Find the Great Ghost Callahan and well — ask him who done it?"

"Not a bad idea, really," said Adam, thoughtfully.

"It doesn't work quite like that," Sean sighed. "Callahan might not even BE a ghost. We only have the current Sean Callahan's word for that. And even so, he might not be in a helpful mood."

"Being murdered does put one out of sorts, I understand," Dash said, dryly.

"Yes, and I have to believe that if Sean Callahan knew, or was totally connected on that point, he might have said something before now," said Daniel. "Either to me, or the current Sean Callahan, and he has given no indication of that — not even when I haunted him that one night last year."

"You're dead, Captain Gregg…" Claymore began.

"An astute observation," Daniel fired back.

"No... You don't understand. I mean, why don't you know who killed him?"

"I'm a spirit, Claymore, not God. If I didn't know the rascal was killed and resting in my cellar before now..."

"You mean you are admitting that you don't know everything?" Claymore exclaimed. "Well, Hallelujah!"

"I did not commit that murder — but you may have to defend me yet, young Adam!" Daniel glared at Claymore once more.

"I only defend innocent ghosts," Adam dead-panned.

"Even when justified?" the seaman insisted

"It's bad form to confess IN FRONT of your attorney," Adam maintained. "Stop it."

"Far be it from me to play the idiot here," said Claymore. "But I usually end up in that position anyway, so I have to ask. Just don't shoot me. Uhm, could we get Madame Tibaldi back to raise Callahan from... where-ever it is, he is, and ask him? I mean I've seen it in the movies and..."

Sean shook his head. "Sorry, Clay. May work in the movies, but not real life. With a real spiritualist, there might be a chance we could reach the spirit of Callahan the First, but usually the murdered person is too traumatized, even if their ghost is raised, to know who did it."

"Oh." Claymore gulped, and looked disappointed.

"I met the ghost of a murder victim once," said Tristan. "Poor old chap was terribly muddled. Had no idea who had done it — and hadn't gotten clear headed enough to..." He made a face. "Close up the bullet hole. Quite off-putting."

"By the way, speaking of debunking myths," Carolyn spoke up, "if that skeleton really is Sean Callahan, uhm, well..."

"Why isn't he haunting here, seeing this is where he died?" Dash finished.

"Well, yes," Carolyn blushed. "I know. Silly question?"

"No," the ghost shook his head. "But look at Sean, Tris and myself. We aren't grounded, as it were. On a whim, I traveled to Alaska last year."

"And you know, I don't know who started this nonsense about ghosts not being able to travel over water, either," Tris spoke up again. "I've been to Europe since — moving into a more fluid existence."

"Fluid existence?" Sean queried.

"Well, mortals do get touchy about the 'D' word," Tris answered.

"How did you get to Europe?" Martha asked.

"Just walked." Tris shrugged. "I can't sink, you know. Can't get tired. Though I don't know who was more freaked that one time — me or the dolphin that jumped through me."

"I think I would have liked to see that, actually," said Claymore. "All Spoo... Uncle Cap... Captain Gregg does is walk through walls and pop in and out and scare me occasionally..." He gave his great-uncle a look. "Although not as much as he used to."

Daniel Gregg glared at the bespectacled man before him. "You can't HANDLE what else I can do, Claymore."

Claymore nodded. "And I don't think I want to find out, either."

The talks and rehashing of known facts went on for several hours — everyone involved offering suggestion after suggestion — no one getting any closer to an answer, until Adam threw his hands up, maintaining he needed a nap if the discussions were to continue — pointing out that Sean, Dashire and Daniel could survive with no sleep, but he could not, especially as his day had begun at five-thirty in the morning. Begging a time to collapse, the lawyer made his way to the spare room to go horizontal for an hour or two, Claymore left to take care of some pressing business in town, saying he would return later, and a short time after that, Carolyn retired to the master cabin to try to take a short nap herself before the children came home from school.

The evening that followed was not much better.

XXX

Candy and Jonathan headed off to school the next morning, unwillingly — certain that they would be teased about the 'Murderous Captain Gregg'," as he had already been dubbed by Danny Shoemaker. Martha gave them each an extra cupcake, Carolyn and Daniel gave them each an extra hug, and bade them to keep their chins up and their fists down — saying the gossip would pass, in short-order.

Until the kids left, Adam was unusually quiet, hogging the paper. Once they were out the door, he was free to explode. Slapping the special edition of the _Schooner Bay Beacon _down, he snorted in disgust. "I strongly suggest discontinuing your subscription to this rag and taking an out of town paper."

Dashire floated the paper over to read it himself.

"_Town's hero not so heroic: Daniel Gregg, long held up as the icon of heroism in Schooner Bay, has recently been revealed to have long buried secrets. An excavation by Sheriff Edward Peavey has unearthed the body of Sean Callahan the First, ancestor of the recent best-selling books, The Great Ghost Callahan's, author, also Sean Callahan, in the cellar of Gull Cottage, home to reporter Carolyn Muir of the Beacon. Interviews with the head of the Schooner Bay Historical society, Miss Elvira Grover, confirm that there was indeed a rivalry between Daniel Gregg and Mister Callahan. As chronicled in the above mentioned book, Gregg was jealous of Mr. Callahan's_—_"_

"I MOST CERTAINLY WAS NOT!" Daniel Gregg thundered.

"Consider the source," Adam advised. "Read on, please, Lord Dashire."

"Where was I? I think I'll skip on to the next sentence. Well, really, there's not much more there..." Dash said, a bit uncertainly.

"Mrs. Muir…" Adam began.

"Carolyn."

"Carolyn, then. Do you have the phone number for Mr. Finley? I think we need to issue an official statement."

Raising her brows a bit, Carolyn went and got the number, then joined the ghosts in trailing after Adam to the phone.

"Mister Finley, good morning. This is Adam Pierce, Mrs. Muir's legal consultant. You are aware that she has a book as well, concerning Captain Gregg's life and also the publication of books about members of his crew…" He made a face at the preening the other three ghosts did on that note. "…Is forthcoming. More articles like this morning's could endanger the paperback negotiations and other issues relating to those volumes. In which case, I might need to investigate the damages inflicted by your paper — not to mention how the article might affect the value of Mister Gregg's properties." Mark's sputtering was clear to everyone else in the room, even across it. "Now, now. I'm sure that the _Beacon's_ sphere of influence isn't that long-reaching, but it may be a consideration, down the road. I'm just saying, hold off on printing more that might be considered slander in a court of law, until all the facts are in. Now, on behalf of Mr. Claymore Gregg and Carolyn Muir — NO they are NOT a couple — I am issuing an official statement."

"They are shocked to find a body in the cellar — especially considering that all research points to the fact that Mister Gregg's beloved ancestor would not harm a fly without just cause and never displayed the cowardice that hiding a body indicates — unlike others who have been labeled hero in this town. Furthermore, the evidence that the corpse is in fact, Sean Callahan, is circumstantial. The watch may have landed there later or earlier. The house was abandoned for years after Captain Gregg's accidental demise, and he was away at sea for extended periods in life. What's that? Do they have a statement concerning the vengeful ghost seen the past day harrying passers-by? Certainly. Here it is — for the record — Some people have a well developed imagination." On that note, with a beatific smile, Adam bid Finley good day.

"You notice, I did not say who had the good imagination," he added, looking over at Tris, who was doing his best to look innocent. "That should give the nitwit pause, for a day or two. However, his article was useful in one respect."

"What's that?" Daniel grumbled. "Scruffy is housebroken. And wood makes a better fire."

"If there is information that would lead someone to recall any rivalry between you two—"

"The rivalry was, Callahan was jealous of ME!"

"Still — there might be other records, somewhere. If you could nail down when Callahan the First vanished then — do you have records of your time at sea? Logs or something? If so — showing that you were at sea during that time would exonerate you. If it went to trial that would be one way I'd bring up reasonable doubt."

"But just doubt. I want to be cleared absolutely," Daniel protested.

"We have established that, but total clearing all doubt might be trickier than even I can pull off. Enough doubt though will make it seem so unlikely that you will be effectively cleared."

"I think Claymore might have some of the old logbooks," Carolyn essayed.

"Is there a hotel around here that was here when you were — calling you dead is really inaccurate — you know? In the flesh? He had to stay somewhere — or maybe that book you mentioned would list something like death date. Think the library has that one? Or should I go look for a bookstore? And any other ideas, people? I'm open to suggestions. Blast, I wish I could write all this down — every lawyer wants to do precedent setting work. No one could top this for precedent setting."

"We have the book," Martha offered. "Mister Callahan insisted on sending it to us, along with the _Great Ghost Gregg_."

"Good. May I see it? And could one of you spooks go get the logs for—"

"Vanessa ran off in eighteen-sixty. I left the annual July fourth picnic after only five minutes because all the whispering about her elopement was unbearable," Daniel finally said. "We'll need the logs for April through June, just to be thorough."

"Good. That narrows things down. I don't suppose any of you ghosts have moldering diaries in your attics saying something to the effect 'I'd kill for my Captain'?"

"Diaries are for girls," Sean snorted.

"Besides, as you mentioned, impugning us would reflect badly on Mrs. Muir's other books," Tristan reminded, wagging a finger. "However, there was that insane Latin chap on several voyages I wouldn't mind hanging out to dry."

"I'll take that under advisement — IF all else fails," Adam noted dryly. "Right now, perhaps it's purple prose — but I think I need to read that book."

Martha went and got _The Great Ghost Callahan_ from where it was serving as a paperweight, and the young man settled down to read — but it didn't take long for him to nod off. The ghosts liked to get the humans up early, and it was wearing.

XXX

Carolyn was restless. Television seemed entirely bland compared to the present reality. She couldn't concentrate well enough to write, so she whispered to Martha that she was going for a walk.

As she strolled the waterline, Carolyn felt a presence join her. "Hello, Captain."

"I did not mean to disturb you, Madam, I just wanted to keep an eye out — in case more tourists showed up. I may not be Tristan, but I can get rid of them."

"No — I'm glad you're here." She shook her head. "This must all be so hard on you."

"Well — perhaps, a bit. Harder on you and the family, I think. Not to mention Adam." He laughed a bit at that.

"No wonder you despised Sean Callahan's descendent on sight." She looked down as her cheeks began to heat. _Did she dare mention that history would never have repeated itself?_

"Perhaps I was a bit hard on him, but he's not his ancestor, any more than you are Vanessa, but the latter, I had figured out long before..." he trailed off. "This confession is somewhat overdue. You have shared a bit of your heartaches with me in the past — about your late husband, and his affairs, after all. Callahan was not a sea captain, or any captain of any kind, but he did delight in pretending to be anything other than what he was. Vanessa was much younger than I was, in more ways than one. Very naive, something I had not the luxury to be, even when I might have been."

"You don't have to—" Carolyn began softly.

"No, let me finish." Taking a deep breath, he went on, "She began pestering me in fifty-nine to come home, settle down. I refused. She needed to learn to cope. My profession was my profession. I suggested that she go and visit Dashire's wife, Aislynn — who was much more accepting of his trade and its demands on his time, even if she was not always happy about it. That did not, as you might imagine, go over well. From what I gathered from Mrs. McLir, my housekeeper, Vanessa, after my one of my last refusals and a delayed voyage, was most unhappy. When she met Callahan, someone who bore enough resemblance to me that I found myself more than once dodging an angry father of a wronged woman on his behalf, she was charmed. He claimed to be a former sea captain, who left the sea life to look for love, and she was it. Knowing she was mine sweetened the deal. I'm frankly amazed she convinced him to marry."

"Callahan the First sounds like a bad lot, all the way around," Carolyn nodded, full of empathy for the seaman, and what he had been through.

"I would like to add now, I never told you, you know, that Vanessa's letters to me — the ones her descendant was looking for?"

"Yes..."

"They weren't lost. I took them with me on my next voyage, tore them up and scattered the pieces overboard. It took me... longer to get rid of the gifts I had collected for her during my voyages." He gave her an apologetic smile.

"Thank you for telling me about Vanessa, Daniel. I… I'm rather surprised you haven't before now. Better late than never, I guess..."

"Closed subject, my dear — I take it you did notice her chest is no longer in the wheelhouse?"

"I did, actually, back when we cleaned up the attic, but I thought you could have moved it somewhere else..."

"I threw the remainder of the things in that chest into the ocean over a year ago — the night I danced with you, using Claymore, before the Centennial Ball. There is one thing that I suspect and hope we'll need, someday, that I DID save. However, it's in a safe place, until then."

"All right, she smiled. "I'll trust you on that." She paused. "Daniel?"

"Hmm?"

"So when Sean's descendant visited, it wasn't me you didn't trust, it was him?"

"That's right."

"And you loved me, even then?"

"Aye, naturally. And you?"

"Well, of course I did, Daniel, but I couldn't do anything about it — not then. I didn't think I could... well... touch you, but there was that one time when you gave me my shawl. I thought, then, I could feel your hands on my shoulders, but then I decided it was because you were touching the cloth, not me, and…"

"The possibility of touch wasn't made obvious to me for quite some time, my darling. Now, naturally, I wish I had said something to you sooner."

Carolyn reached up and kissed her Captain soundly. "Oh, my very dear Captain, I wish you had, too. You could have saved us both a great deal of trouble." She pulled away from him slightly, frowning. "What happened to her then? If Sean the First wound up in the cellar, then he could not have eloped with Vanessa — could he?"

A look of consternation spread over Daniel's face. "We need to go rouse Adam. Blast! I can't believe we missed that!"

XXX

When Daniel and Carolyn returned to the cottage, they were greeted by Tris, Dashire, Sean O'Casey and Claymore, who had arrived only moments before — supposedly to see what the latest developments were — but Martha hinted darkly that another good reason for his appearance could be because dinner would be ready in an hour.

Adam looked up from where he was sitting on the window seat. "Good. You're back. Daniel, I think your Vanessa, pardon me, was a liar. The not-so-great-ghost Callahan did not tell his not-so-great-grandson much about his earthly life..." he announced, slapping the book. "But he did recount a few things that... well... are quite... ahem... sensational. If I'm following what you and the others have told me, Callahan the current would be a descendant of your Vanessa. But, the great, great — however many great — grannies of this Callahan was not named Vanessa — it was a young lady whose father was a good shot and promised Callahan would never father another child if he didn't marry his Colleen. If he did marry Vanessa, he was a bigamist — but that would not startle me too much. Whoever 'offed him did the world a favor."

"Well, that explains how that bit of dross wound up on the bestseller list — scandal, among other things — sells," Sean O'Casey said in disgust. "I'm almost sorry none of us did the deed."

"For the last time, I hope, stop saying things like that around me!" Adam practically yelled. "None of you wishes you had killed, or will kill anyone — got it?"

"Let me see if I have this story straight," said Martha. "I knew I didn't like genealogy." She looked at the Captain, and began:

"Your Vanessa had a liaison with Sean Callahan, the First, right?" she said bluntly.

The seaman nodded.

"Meanwhile..." She looked at Adam. "The _Great Ghost Gregg_ book says Sean the First also had a shotgun wedding with a woman named Colleen, in Ireland, and produced a son, Sean Callahan the second, so to speak, by that union, right?"

"Yes," Adam agreed.

"I thought the current Callahan wrote that his great-great-whatever-grandmother married a schoolmaster?" Martha asked.

"Well, if Callahan the First represented himself as a sea-captain to Vanessa, he could have represented himself as a schoolmaster in Ireland, too," Dash shrugged. "If he lied about being Daniel Gregg — then why not a schoolteacher? Though I hate to think what he could teach!"

"Sex Ed?" Tris suggested, acerbically.

"Or, more likely," Adam rubbed his chin. "Colleen married Sean in the shotgun wedding, produced Sean the second. The first Sean wandered away, Colleen might have eventually married someone else, but her son by Callahan, stayed a Callahan, siring all Callahan's since. Then Sean the First ended up having the affair with Vanessa, as you said. She must have become pregnant, pretended the elopement, ran away to somewhere, and had the baby. She could have married some time after... possibly to someone in the Peakskill line; we have another generation or so to fool around with here... name changed by marriage, and all that, but Peakskill or whoever... I could find out if I have to, legally ADOPTED Vanessa's illegitimate child by Callahan — which is why there is no trace of the Hamilton, or Callahan name by those origins here in the U.S."

Martha nodded and stood. "Okay, I think I've got it," and she turned again to Daniel Gregg. "Captain this is unreal — and confusing, yet incredibly believable. But I never want to hear you laugh at me for watching my soaps. If all this is true, it beats anything that _General Hospital _and _One Life To Live _could come up with. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get those blankets out of the dryer. I need to get them stored away before I start dinner." She started for the stairs.

"Wait!" Claymore cut in. "I am actually following all of this, which surprises me enormously, but we still haven't answered the question everyone in Schooner Bay wants to know... Who killed Callahan the First and buried his body in the cellar of Gull Cottage?"

"What's my all-time favorite Sherlock Holmes quote, Dashire?" Adam asked, arching an eyebrow in his employer's direction.

"That one I know," Dashire answered with a chuckle. "Sean knows it too_. 'Eliminate the impossible, and whatever remains..."_

"_' ...however improbable, must be the truth,'" _Sean finished. "So?"

"So the impossible is, Daniel couldn't have killed Sean because he was at sea at the time — even if we haven't been able to prove that yet. That is the biggest truth, even if he can't stand up in the middle of a courtroom and say so. Besides, if I read the feelings of all here correctly, you KNOW he didn't kill Sean Callahan, simply because he wouldn't. Daniel Gregg isn't that kind of man. Correct?"

"Right," all in the room assented.

"Which means someone else did, which means I need another angle. Now, you would agree that there were few people in town then who would have access to Gull Cottage... to kill the man, and bury the body in the cellar, correct?"

"Right," Claymore spoke up. "Access to the house. I forgot about that."

"That only leaves us with one person with a viable motive to kill Callahan," sad Adam.

"WHO???" The cries from the room were loud and long.

"_Vanessa,"_ he answered. "Incredible as it seems, she is the only possible one with a real, vital reason to kill him. Kill him, and then disappear for parts unknown... and she did just that."

"I gotta hear this," Martha said, coming back into the room and dropping her load of blankets on the ottoman located in front of the window seat. "What makes you think it is Vanessa?"

"Only one it CAN be," Adam shrugged. "Only solution I can come up with."

"Explain," Daniel snapped, looking as pale as a ghost could possibly look.

"Vanessa had an affair with Callahan while you were at sea, Daniel, correct?"

"Yes."

"Only possible solution is she must have became pregnant, managed to summon Sean the First out to Gull Cottage, told him about the baby — he laughed in her face, rejected her, maybe even said there were others before her and would be others after her. She became angry, caught him unawares, bashed him over the head with the proverbial blunt instrument, and buried the body in the cellar, here at Gull Cottage."

"That's incredible," said Tris. "But... well... it does make a certain amount of sense... seeing as how it's the only solution we have come up with that doesn't involve the Captain here getting charged posthumously with murder."

"The motive seems right enough," Dash agreed, nodding his head. "Good hypothesis, as far as I can tell."

"Wait a minute!" Carolyn spoke up again. "Far be it from me to shoot down any solution at this point, but I MET Vanessa... at least her double, two years ago when she visited here looking for the letters her great-whatever grandmother wrote to Daniel. He said then she was the image of her ancestor, and she even fit in her grandmother's dress. She wasn't any more than five foot two or three, tops. Even if Vanessa did get a key to Gull Cottage, and even if she did kill Callahan, how did she manage to get a man — a dead man — a man Daniel's — or the current Sean Callahan's size and build, dead weight, down to the cellar and buried? It's impossibility! Vanessa is... was my height… there is no way I could do it by myself!"

"You could if you had help," Adam answered, mildly, and turned a steady gaze to Martha Grant. "A very special person... someone devoted to you and your protection. A servant, perhaps?"

A light bulb popped on over everyone's head, and a general outcry broke out from all in the room.

"Mrs. McLir??" Daniel said, dumbstruck.

"The housekeeper!" said Martha, thumping the side of her head. "Of course! She is the only person that would have a key to the house when Captain Gregg was away on a voyage!"

"Well, except me," Sean added. "For emergencies, you know. But I was with you, Danny, at sea."

"Add to that, Captain Gregg, you told me yesterday that Mrs. McLir was also a housekeeper to the Hamilton family, and that the housekeeper and Vanessa were close. I think they did the deed together," Adam continued. Daniel gripped Carolyn's hand tightly. "My hypothesis is this," he said flatly. "Vanessa was lonesome and wanted you to come home. You didn't. Fact. She met Sean Callahan, a man that looked a great deal like you. Fact. She was charmed by him, perhaps even in a way, seduced. Surmised. They ended up having an affair, or at least a one night... incident. Again, surmised. Ergo... the only logical assumption is when she found herself in the family way; she called her long time housekeeper/confidante, told her of her predicament, and begged her help."

Daniel nodded again. "I am with you so far."

"Vanessa must have arranged, most likely through Mrs. McLir, to meet Sean Callahan in a private spot to give him the news. And what more private a spot than Gull Cottage? She could tell him without fear of anyone overhearing and getting the news back to her father, and better yet, Mrs. McLir had a key to the place... they wouldn't be disturbed."

"Then what?" Claymore cut in.

"That kind of thing probably happened to Sean Callahan more than once during his life," Adam answered, looking around at the group. "My bet is Callahan rejected her — probably saying, at best that he wouldn't marry her, at worst, laughed at her for believing his lies — perhaps even suggested an a very un-nice way she better figure out a way to marry you quickly, Daniel, before the baby was born. Whatever it was Callahan said to Vanessa Hamilton, he didn't get a chance to say much more."

"And that's when Vanessa, in a rage, beaned him over the head with something heavy — maybe this very fireplace poker—" Claymore grabbed the tool for emphasis.

"Could be that very tool," Adam said. Claymore turned green and put the poker back where he had taken it. "And Mrs. McLir would have had to be there that night to get Vanessa inside Gull Cottage to begin with."

"So when Vanessa bashed his head in and realized what she had done..." Tris prompted.

"The two of them together grabbed a candle for light, moved the body to the cellar, buried it in the corner, left, and then concocted the story about the elopement. Most likely Mrs. McLir gave Vanessa whatever money she had, Vanessa left town. The rest you know, Captain. She had the baby... married... her ancestor visited Gull Cottage."

"Incredible," Daniel said quietly.

"Of course, as I said, this is all hypotheses," Adam added. "But it is the only scenario that makes sense."

Mindful of decorum, Daniel spoke up: "How do we prove all this? You know this town. They aren't going to believe anything unless it is down in black and white for all the world to see."

"Well, what we have..." He tapped the book, still in his lap, "...is enough to take to Ed Peavey and get something moving," said Adam. "By the time I get through explaining things, He'll be ready to say the sun rises in the west."

"That might work for Ed, but not everyone," said Carolyn. "Schooner Bay is very slow to accept the truth at times, and they love gossip. I still get remarks about _Maiden Voyage_, and I've been here for three years now, and there are still people that say I live in a haunted house."

"You DO live in a haunted house!" the ghosts chorused.

"Not the kind THEY think of!" she grinned. "I think they expect more Paul Wilke's variety of ghost."

"Or the Ghost of Raines Abbey?" Tris giggled.

"Carolyn is right," the seaman sighed. "We may have an answer, a theory, but we can't do anything without proof."

"Well, all this is well and good, but life does go on — and I've gotten terribly behind on the housework," Martha said, picking up the pile of blankets she had dropped on the ottoman ten minutes before.

"You're in no danger of being docked," Carolyn smiled.

"No — but it makes me antsy," Martha dissented.

"Can I suggest apple muf—" Tristan piped up before Sean swatted him.

"So, Mister Pierce, if you will get off the window seat for a moment, I need to get these blankets put away."

"Absolutely. Let me give you a hand," Adam offered, leaping to his feet and opening the lid. As he did so, he noted, "Oh, Clay, I see another repair you need to look into — there's a loose board at the bottom, here."

Reflexively, Martha leaned in to look where he was pointing, knowing she or Mrs. Muir would be more likely to be in charge of repairs, than Claymore. Frowning, she said, "There's something caught back under there. Paper of some kind."

"You're right," Adam said in a hushed tone. Carefully, he un-wedged the paper, an envelope.

"That's Mrs. McLir's writing," Daniel announced as he moved close enough to see the scrawl on the front of the envelope. "To Whom It May Concern... sounds ominous."

"Or promising," Adam countered. "Let's see what the old girl has to say."

_**November 17, 1869**_

_**To whom it may concern:**_

_**I fear I don't have much longer for this world, and I want to clear my conscience before I meet my maker.**_

_**I, Mrs. Rebecca McLir, am party to a murder. **_

_**In 1860, a girl I loved like a daughter, Vanessa Hamilton, was engaged to one of my employers, Captain Daniel Gregg. She was not happy, though he was a good man. His long voyages frustrated her. She was lonely... and when Sean Callahan came to Schooner Bay, he even fooled me for a mite.**_

_**Vanessa fell in love — she imagined. I'm not sure she even knew what went into making a child. She was sure she was dying, but I knew what her sickness was — he'd put a child in her. She was convinced Mr. Callahan would be as honorable as the man he looked like, and marry her, and all her schoolgirl dreams would come true. **_

_**That night in 1860 when I arranged for him to meet Vanessa at Gull Cottage, and she told him her news, he laughed at her. He then tried to walk out on her. She tried to stop him; he resisted, and continued to leave. I don't think she meant to kill him, though he deserved it — but she grabbed the fireplace poker and — smashed his head with it. When the scream came, I rushed in, thinking he'd hurt her more. But no, he was lying there in a pool of blood… dead.**_

_**There was nothing for it but to hide the body — in Gull Cottage's cellar. When it was done, I helped my lamb escape. She was going to leave town and pretend to be a widow, there were so many then that it would be believed. I hated telling the Captain she'd betrayed him, but there was no help for it. **_

_**Daniel Gregg committed suicide last week. I found him myself... in his bedroom, on the couch there. The gas was on and the windows closed. The Captain always slept with his windows open. Poor man! I have no idea why he chose to end his own life — my dear Vanessa has long since left, and — I doubt that he mourned her for nine years, but it is something of a relief. If anyone finds the body in the cellar while I**__**am alive, they will make the natural guess that the Captain killed Sean Callahan, and hid the body, and Vanessa and I will remain safe. I did hear, a few years ago, quite by accident, that Vanessa finally did marry, a good man, and he adopted the child she had by the scoundrel, but she never told him the truth about its true origins. I pray for a day that innocent children will not blamed for their parent's mistakes, and may God have mercy on my soul.**_

_**Rebecca McLir**_

"Talk about close calls..." Adam said quietly. "Well, this confirms everything we supposed."

"So... now what happens?" Daniel gazed at Carolyn and then back at the attorney.

"Well, when all is said and done, this whole issue may not be one for the courts. We'll file Mrs. McLir's letter as a matter of record, of course. Carolyn can write an article to be published in the _Beacon_ — or make Mark Finley do it, using a Photostat of the letter as backup, and call it case-closed. Technically, this is all second hand information, being told by the housekeeper and all, and might not be strictly admissible in a conventional courtroom, but this is not a conventional case! The only other thing I can see, just to be on the safe side, is we might need another expert from Bangor to verify that this letter is one hundred-plus years old, but the dates and events match — it shouldn't be a problem.

Everyone in the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"You know, Mrs. Muir," said Claymore, "with a little filling in, this could all be a fabulous novel..."

"Yes," Daniel growled. "My humiliation and misfortune on display — that would appeal to you."

"I wasn't thinking of that," Claymore protested. "But, really, what a bestseller it could be! The public loves intrigue."

"In other words," Tris added, pointedly, "Old Clay here sees dollar signs."

"It has been days since I did anything profitable," Claymore snapped back, defensively.

"Yes," Adam interrupted. "And when Callahan sees his ancestor's demise played out in literary form, I'll send you the bill for the headache medications I'll need to cope with the lawsuit — and trust me — it will take the largest size bottle, refilled multiple times."

"I thought your tastes in books ran a bit — younger, Claymore?" Carolyn added. "You know, _Don Speed_…"

"But I won't be buying it, though maybe you need an agent?" Claymore tried again, not giving up easily. Daniel silenced him with a look at that point, and Claymore poured himself another cup of coffee.

"I guess the letter covers everything, once and for all," Carolyn sighed. "Now I suppose I should try to track down Miss Peakskill and say something..." She made a face. "What, I have no idea..."

"First things first," Daniel stated, and put a tender arm around her waist. "My dear, I think you and I deserve a quiet evening, a good dinner, and..." He was interrupted by the telephone ringing. "One of these days I am going to rip that blasted thing right out of the wall!"

"Whoever it is, I'll try to keep it short," Carolyn placated him, disengaged herself from his arms, and reached for the phone sitting on the end table, next to the couch. "Quiet, please! Hello?"

The Irish brogue on the other end was instantly familiar. "Mrs. Muir? Carolyn? 'Tis I — Sean Callahan."

"Why Sean! How good it is to hear your voice!"

The Captain's face darkened noticeably and he inched toward Carolyn. Smiling, she tipped the receiver so both she and Daniel could listen at the same time.

"Wonderful, marvelous. Couldn't be better! I just returned from my honeymoon, you know."

"I heard, Sean." Carolyn smiled into the receiver. "Congratulations. I hope you and your bride will be very happy. But really, there is something I need to talk..."

"Oh, I know we will be," Sean said quickly. "Listen, Carolyn, this is long distance, I need to keep this short... I... well; I seem to have mislaid my ghost."

"What?" she responded, nonplused, and looked at Daniel.

"My ghost," Callahan repeated. "My bride and I just got back to the castle not fifteen minutes ago and my ghost... The Great Ghost Callahan, is gone! All that remains of him is a note, saying:

'_**Thank you, Daniel Gregg, Carolyn Muir and crew. I'm off for good, I can rest now. May the wind always be at your back, and may you all be in heaven a day before the devil knows you're dead. Sean, my boy, you'll need a new ghost for your castle—'**_

My dear Carolyn, what did your ghost do with my ghost?"

Sean O'Casey smiled, obviously hearing what his fellow Irishman had to say. "Now there's a switch... I never thought Sean Callahan would ever say thank you to anyone for anything."

"Wonder if there are any ghosts around that need a castle to call home?" Dashire mused. "Wanted, one ghost. Good hours, aristocratic accommodations... can't quite see old Elroy, but..."

"He'll do it," Claymore sniped, pointing at Tristan.

"No, Clay — we'll let you do it," Tris rejoined.

"But I'm not dead," Claymore said, pouting.

"Yet," Tristan said brightly.

"What did I say about confessing in front of me?" Adam sighed, patiently. "Oh, and Clay…" Adam added, in a too-innocent tone that made Tristan grin, "I'll pop my bill in the mail tomorrow for all this."

"WHAT?" Claymore shrieked.

"Well, it is YOUR beloved ancestor I cleared. You are his last living relative…"

"Who has all of MY money, I might add," Daniel put in.

"So, you get the bill."

"But…" Claymore started.

"Shh," Carolyn scowled at the group in front of her. "Well, it's like this, Sean..." Mindful of the long-distance charges Sean Callahan was incurring, Carolyn quickly told him the story of his great-great-great-grandfather's untimely death by Vanessa Hamilton's hand. Surprisingly, the Irishman didn't seem to be all that upset, and he gave Carolyn the information she needed to arrange for his ancestor's remains to be shipped back to Ireland for interment in the family plot in County Cork. Smiling, Carolyn started to wind up the telephone call.

"...Well, anyway Sean. I'm sorry if this has all been a shock, and I'll go ahead and make the rest of the arrangements, and once again, congratulations on your marriage. I hope you two will be very happy." Carolyn grinned as she watched her Captain's features relax still a bit more.

"Oh, I know I shall be." The Lady of Gull Cottage practically heard the Irishman smile through the phone. "And I am even surer now. You know, it's amazing that things have worked out as they have."

"Why?" Carolyn asked. "I always knew there was someone out there right for you."

"Well, Carolyn," Sean answered with another chuckle. "I think you ought to say hello to my new bride."

"Uhm... why?" she asked, bewildered.

"You'll see," the Irishman said, laughing. "Darlin'... guess who's on the telephone! Carolyn Muir!"

Carolyn heard a small shout of exclamation, there was a pause, and then she heard a woman's voice on the other end of the line.

"Mrs. Muir — It's so nice to hear your voice again. Congratulations on your book!"

That voice — Carolyn had a glimmer of recognition.

"Do you remember me, Mrs. Muir?" the voice continued.

"Your... it's familiar..." she stammered.

"Mrs. Muir, it's me! Vanessa Peakskill... Callahan."

Somehow, it all seemed rather fitting after one hundred years.


End file.
